


Ripe

by selenagomez



Series: sugared plums [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: AU, Abigail is not underage when she carries out her affair with Hannibal, F/F, F/M, Sugar Baby Abigail Hobbs, Sugar Daddy, Sugar Daddy Hannibal, mentions of mcnuggets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-25 18:00:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1657385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selenagomez/pseuds/selenagomez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perhaps it's wrong to measure a man on his monetary worth, but history has shown that men are all too eager to judge women on aesthetic beauty or the money that their fathers had. Abigail cannot choose her biological father, but she can choose him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ripe

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically a prologue to the rest of the series and covers Abigail's backstory and how she met Hannibal

Abigail remembers the fairytales that she was told as a child, the ones that her father or mother sat on the end of her bed and read to her. Those stories taught her that the way to be happy was to marry a Prince, by the age of seven Abigail had already secretly decided that she would sooner marry a king. Fairy tales melted away as she got older and became novels, she was amused to learn that these texts often contained the idea that young woman could be dangerous. From the sirens of greek myths, to the nymphets that twirled through the pages of Nabokov's Lolita. Abigail amused herself with the idea that she too could be dangerous. Fairy tales were so often warning to children, do not stray from the path, do not trust strangers and the novels of her teenage years were no different. They were instead warnings to men, do not trust young girls. 

Her high school days pass as practice, she's not daring enough yet to bite the forbidden fruit but she will begin to sample it's juices. Hot summer days are spent sitting out on the grass by her fathers construction sights, licking bright red ice lollys in a way that is a little too suggestive to be accidental. She feels the glances of men who share lunch with her father lingering over her, eyes fixed on her wrist as she flicks her tongue out to lick away that line of red liquid that drips from her frozen treat. It's cliché, but it works and she laughs about it back at home. These men will never be her king, they are simply amusements to help her pass the time. 

Her friends all have their first kisses at prom or stolen hurriedly behind a closed bedroom door. She chooses her's far more carefully, after all Lilith had Adam before Lucifer made her Queen of Hell. He's the only man she knows well who wears a suit almost all the time, but even better he's her fathers boss. Abigail always did have a weakness for authority figures. So when she's spending one of her many afternoons pretending to study as her father works on someones house on the edge of town, she's delighted when she spots him kicking up a fuss in the mobile office. He's out of place in the temporary environment, his expensive clothes and slicked back hair don't suit the messy half put together environment. That may have been half the reason that she chose him, she didn't want to fit into that world either.

She had thought that getting him to kiss her would be hard, the men in the novels had always put up resistance when the sirens called to them. Stuffed wool in their ears and tied themselves to masts. Her fathers boss put up no such boundaries when she found him out by his car, one foot rubbing against the back of her ankle she looked up at him. Skirt brushing against creamy white thighs as it blows in the breeze. She remembers, that it required more arm strength than she had first though to keep her arms around his neck even after he had lifted her off the ground. It was more like hunting than she ever could have imagined, she had shot the buck and now she took her victory kiss. 

The car ride home with her father is quiet as she mulls over her accomplishment, she'll never see his boss again of course. She doesn't mean to make an affair of it, after all it would be a shame to waste her potential on a guy who overseas what her father does. The point is to make an advancement. To give in now would be a defeat. 

A girl has got to have a role model, and fiction can only take her so far. There is no point finding an idol in someone her age, then they might become her friend and she has enough of those. She finds her role model while she's working in the Mcdonalds that's just down the road from her house, sure working there isn't glamorous but it gives her money for cute skirts and concert tickets. People often seem to get the impression that simply because she wants people to buy her nice things she isn't willing to work for them too. She's working the graveyard shift, the building is far enough out of town that they only people who stop by are those driving away from the city or coming home after a late night. She's impressed with the red headed woman who strides through the doors before she's even uttered a single word, it's her presence. The click of her heels on the cheap flooring and the way her gaze is always straight ahead. Looking forward, never backwards. 

She orders a salad. She orders a salad every Friday for four weeks, and by that time she's taught Abigail more about who she wants to be than anyone else ever had. Freddie is a journalist, dating a top psychiatrist named Alana Bloom. She calls herself a power lesbian, and Abigail giggles into the mcnuggets that she has 'borrowed' from behind the counter. Freddie teaches Abigail never to stop moving and then proves her theory by being the product of it, everything that the redhead does is one long fluid movement. From the movement of her hands to the way her curls seem almost alive, for a moment Abigails mind is taken back to the memories of Greek myths though she wonders if Medusa was in fact so beautiful that she turned people to stone. They couldn't handle her, just like it seemed that the world couldn't handle Freddie Lounds.

Abigail is not just grateful to Freddie for what she teaches her, but also for the opportunity. Freddie is Hermes, leading Persephone far away from her home and straight into the arms of Hades. It had always been interesting to Abigail that there were versions of the tale of Hades and Persephone where she is taken willingly and eats the seeds so that she may remain with her beloved. She meets her Hades far away from Mcdonalds and construction sites, she's finally in the kind of world that she wanted to find herself in. One with expensive dresses, and polite conversation. She is invited to a party that is being held for Alana, of course she's never met the woman but she is a guest of Freddies and so everyone is as nice to her as can be expected. She soon learns that while Freddie might be her idol, there are many of Alanas friends who seem to disapprove of the relationship between them. It's Freddie who takes her over to Alana, but sadly that first conversation with the women is lost in the glow of meeting him.

He dwarfs her, but in a way she had always expected that Hades should stand so much taller than she. Her comparisons between him and a God are no teenage exaggeration in the glow of a crush. He is carved out like an artists masterpiece, the lines of his face angular instead of rounded. While he is far older than her, his face does not seem affected by time. He looks as if he could exist within any time frame, he could be captured in a painting in eighteenth century France and look just as at home as he would if she were to take a photograph right then and there. He's standing next to Alana when Freddie takes her over to meet her. 

Hannibal Lecter. Freddie introduces him with a layer of respect to accompany her slight distaste. He offers her a hand to shake and as she reaches out with her lily white palm, Abigail feels already as if she is shaking on a deal with the devil. His smile promises much more than polite conversation, already she can picture the clothes that he could dress her in and the way that he would kiss her when she'd been a good little girl. Her heart flutters as she gets her first taste of his touch, he has the look of a shark who has just smelled blood as he looks her up and down. She doesn't mind, she hopes he remembers her scent. 

She smiles as prettily as she can, feeling his hand linger over hers. Staying on the very edge of an acceptable amount of time for a hand shake as he finishes sizing her up. He returns her smile with a small smirk that takes up very little of his overall expression and is just enough to give her the message. To set the game in motion, the cat has seen the mouse and its all about the chase now. The question remains hanging in the air of who is doing the chasing? 


End file.
